


March Thirteenth

by 263Adder



Series: Then and Now [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Childhood, Foreshadowing, Gen, Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Series, Time Travel, Timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/263Adder/pseuds/263Adder
Summary: Three 13th of Marches from Number Five's life, written across two different timelines.





	1. 13th March 2002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Klaus' statement: Vanya who used to cry when we stepped on ants. I ran with it.

“ _No_ , don’t!”

Five glanced up at the yell. It was the first time he had looked up from his book that afternoon.

He’d picked something new from the library, fancying a change from the current book laying half-read in his room. It was an interesting introduction to chaos theory which he had planned to read in its entirety since the old man had given them a rare day off while he conducted whatever business it was that had made him so rich.

He tried to look back at the page, dismissing the noise as another childish fight between his siblings, when another call came from the courtyard.

“Ven. It’s just a bug. It doesn’t have _feelings_ , all right?”

 “You don’t _know_ that. _Stop it_!” Seven cried again. It was rare to hear her speak so loudly.

Tossing the book on the seat beside him, Five figured it was time to stretch his legs anyway. Meandering out of the library, he spotted One, Two and Four crouched around a tree with Seven stood to the side trying to stave off tears.

Five _hated_ being around Seven when she was crying. While there were many wonderful things about his sister, Seven was unfortunately a snotty crier who had a tendency to turn to his shoulder when she was upset.

If her trembling lip was any indication he needed to act fast. If not for Seven, for his jacket.

Materialising behind his brothers he leant over their bowed heads.

“What’re doing?” He said, biting back a laugh as the three jumped in surprise at his sudden appearance.

“Ugh, Five. Don’t _do_ that!” One complained. One always hated it when Five literally sprung out of thin air behind him. Which was why Five did it so frequently.

“Now, are you frying ants with a magnifying glass because you’re interested in optics or are you doing it _just_ to upset Seven?” He asked, looking over the group. Unfortunately he doubted these three would ever use their spare time for intellectual experiments.

Two grunted something, pulling back from the tree.

“What was that?” Five said, using as pedantic a tone as he could muster. He modelled it after their Father.

“I-I said, h-here we g-go a-a-again.” Two replied, flushing in annoyance either at Five or his stutter.

“I don’t recall _ever_ breaking up a fight between you and some bugs before, Number Two.”

“You a-a-always defend h-her.” Two said, jabbing a finger towards Seven whose eyes – Five was exasperated to see – immediately filled with tears.

“We told her the ants aren’t getting hurt and they don’t feel anything.” Four cut in. “We’re just having fun.”

“Yeah, we-we’re not l-like h-her. We d-don’t get a-all day t-to do what-whatever we w-want.”

One gently shoved Two in reprimand (still making Two stumble sideways), however his words weren’t much better. “Look, we weren’t even _thinking_ about Seven.”

Muttering under his breath, Five chanced a glance at his sister.

Now Seven appeared to be trying to disappear into the wall. Not really what he would consider an improvement on crying even if his jacket was now safe. Perhaps he should have retreated for Six, he always handled the emotional stuff better than he did.

“He didn’t mean it like _that_.” Four said, looking in frustration at One. “We just meant we didn’t think she’d care so much – I mean they’re just _ants_. But hey, we can stop.” He added, glancing at the scowl settling over Five’s face.

“W-why should w-we?” Two snapped at Five, who was surprised he didn’t stomp his foot like a petulant child.

“Because we’re upsetting her.” Four answered, eyeing his two brother’s nervously as they toed off.

“V-Ven got upset w-when Three asked her to s-stop playing the v-viol-lin last w-week. Sh-she g-gets upset over n- _nothing_.”

“Asked?” Five snarled, moving closer into his brother’s face. His last growth spurt had left him slightly taller and he could feel how much Two hated that. “Commanded, you mean?”

He felt a tug on his arm and realised Seven had moved into the fray. She had an unmistakable talent for sneaking up on them; if Father wasn’t so obstinate and let her receive hand-to-hand training Seven could actually come in good use during their missions. Especially the ones that required more stealth than One and Two were often capable of.

“It doesn’t matter, Five. They’re right, they’re just bugs. They don’t have feelings.” She shrugged sadly, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

“I couldn’t care less about some ants, Seven.” Five said, his voice too callous.

“W-why do y-you always have t-to ruin our f-f-fun?” Two asked Seven harshly.

One shoved Two again.

“W-will you s- _stop_ doing that?” Two shouted as he staggered sideways.

“You made her cry, _idiot_.” One retorted, pointing at Seven whose eyes were glistening. “Let’s go inside. I got a new record yesterday, let’s go listen to it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.” Four easily agreed, glad for an excuse to leave before Seven burst into tears. “I bet Six will like to hear it. Let’s go ask him.”

“Let’s ask Three, too.” One added enthusiastically.

One and Three had been spending more and more time together lately. Frankly, Five thought Three could do better than spend all her time with ‘Sir Punch the Problem Until it Goes Away’ but he was finding his sisters harder to understand the older they got.

He watched his two siblings leave, eventually followed by a reluctant Two. He glared at Seven as he walked away, causing their sister to shrink further into herself.

“Why did you back down?” Five asked irritated as he turned back onto Seven.

She gave him another small shrug, hiding her eyes behind those dumb bangs Mom had given her years ago.

“We’ve been over this, Ven. Use your _words_.” He prompted. Five tried to lighten his tone, not wanting Seven’s tears to spill over, but frustration pulsed at his temples. He should’ve stayed with his book.

“Two was right.” Seven sighed.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words in combination before. What was he right about, exactly?”

“You guys train all day, I just sit around doing nothing. You should get to do what you want.”

Five gritted his teeth. “You don’t sit around doing _nothing_.”

“Nothing important.” Seven amended, still not meeting his eyes.

“ _Seven_...”

“I said I’d go help Mom with dinner.” She spoke over him.

“Seven!” Five yelled at her, his voice easily dwarfing her timid whisper.

She blinked at him owlishly, unused to being on the receiving end of one of Five’s tempers, before trying again.

“ _No_.” He insisted as she opened her mouth to make another excuse. “Mom can handle dinner on her own – she does it every day. Now come with me.”

She hesitated behind him, so he grabbed her hand and tugged her along.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. But we’re making a few stops first.”

Pulling her through the library, Five retrieved his book, before continuing to the staircase and leading her to their bedrooms.

The door to One’s room was partially open and he could hear the excited chatter of his siblings over the new record which, after listening to a few bars, Five had already decided he didn’t like.

“Go get your violin.” He said, pointing at Seven’s room. “Not the one Pogo gave you, the nice one.”

Nodding, Seven opened the door to her painfully bland room. Five had never managed to convince her to decorate it so he tried to keep them both out of it as much as possible. On the rare occasions they both had free time together, that was.

“Your walls are so boring – are you sure I can’t use some of it to write equations on?” He asked, lounging in the doorway. Five’s walls were nearly entirely covered; he’d have to ask for some new paint soon so he could start over.

“Why can’t you use paper?” Seven asked, sticking her head in the wardrobe to retrieve her most prized possession. She’d taken to using a less valuable violin to practice with after the time Two and Four had stolen Father’s from her to use as blackmail for her evening’s pudding. Six returned it to her within the hour; the only sibling able to talk any sense into the two.

“Everything seems much clearer when it’s written on the wall.”

Seven emerged with the case fondly cradled to her body. “Are you working on something new?”

“Yeah.” He answered vaguely. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“Come on, you’ll see.”

Seven readily followed him this time, so he didn’t need to take her hand. He offered to carry her case however, and he prided himself that she trusted him enough to hand it over. Even if she did hesitate for a second.

He led her along the landing towards the opposite wing, filled with unused bedrooms bar the one used by Pogo. Five chose the one furthest from Pogo’s on the off-chance he was in there this afternoon.

Ushering Seven in, he shut the door behind them.

“What are we doing in here?” She asked, taking a seat on the double bed (which was far more comfortable than their narrow singles).

“I looked around the house for places he can’t see us. These empty rooms don’t have cameras and Mom only comes in to clean them every now and again. So they should leave us alone.”

Five had been the first to discover the cameras. They were set up in the training areas, nestled behind some books or fixed into the corners of the ceilings. Five had found one in his room, affixed to the top of his wardrobe where it had lain undiscovered until he got tall enough to spot it. After that he helped his siblings find the other ones in their rooms.

They never confronted the old man about it, something Five still itched to do even if he didn’t have the support of the others. But at the moment there was something he wanted from their _Father_ more than privacy.

“What are you reading?”

Seven pointed to the book in his other hand.

“It’s about chaos theory. It’s a branch of mathematics,” he explained, catching her confused yet curious expression, “which suggests that small changes to complex systems can have great consequences.”

She nodded before saying: “That doesn’t sound too complicated. Is it like the butterfly effect?”

“Essentially.”

“Are you going to read it out loud?” She asked.

They did that sometimes even though it usually ended up with Seven fast asleep, his jacket once again falling victim as she nearly always drooled a little.

While she was undeniably his closest to an intellectual equal amongst the siblings, mathematics never held much interest to her unless he could connect it to musical theory.  Still, unlike the others she tried and they at least shared an interest in physics. Seven would likely have found the examination of how optics could be used to burn ants fascinating if her empathy didn’t get in the way.

“Not today.” Five said, handing her violin case back over. “You practise while I read.”

“Oh, okay.” Seven agreed, a little surprised by his request.

Five hadn’t pretended to enjoy Seven’s violin practice when she first started a few years ago; back when it sounded like a cat screeching after being spun around by its tail and thrown from a window. A metaphor Two had used and Five had, unusually, agreed with.

As her skill improved though, Five’s appreciation for it had risen. His sister’s music was far more conducive for a relaxing afternoon spent with a book than whatever racket One had picked up, anyway.

After her siblings’ initial reaction to her playing however, Seven was always careful about when to play – practicing when they were out on missions or downstairs in training. Now he felt like he was missing out. His sister always hid her prized possession away whenever her siblings’ returned, unless she was confident the latest piece she was studying was good enough to be overheard. If she struck one bad note though, she would quickly falter and stop.

“Is there anything you want to hear?” She asked hesitantly.

He thought for a moment, trying to remember something he’d heard her play before with confidence. “You were playing something last weekend – what was that?”

“Vivaldi?” Seven tried, her face brightening. “I enjoy his work.”

“Great, you play that while I read.” Five proposed, taking a seat on the other side of the bed.

He plumped a pillow and laid back, opening the book and pulling a pencil from his pocket for making notes. Seven was always slightly horrified that he would write in books, but it was easier than writing it all down on loose pieces of paper.

“Won’t that disturb you? I don’t have to play, I can just...”

“Seven, you won’t disturb me. Now unless you have any more excuses, I’ve just reached the chapter on universality.” He said, looking down at the page.

He could feel her eyes on him for a few moments but he didn’t look back up, keeping his eyes on the page. After a moment her case clicked open, and she pulled out her violin.

They sat in peaceful company as she played. Occasionally, while turning a page Five would glance at her and was happy to see her content with her music. She wasn’t smiling, having a violin under her chin made that difficult, but she looked happier than she had in the courtyard so he considered it a win. Even if he was still convinced that Six would have done a better job cheering her up.

It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to do this more with her, what with their time so strictly scheduled, he thought at he progressed onto inner rhythms. Peace and quiet was hard to find in a house with six super powered children and an authoritarian Father figure – unless you were Seven. She had far too much time on her hands spent in near isolation. Sometimes Five thought it was a shame he couldn’t loan her his powers for a day or two so they could switch lives. Maybe then they could have the best of both worlds.

Seven’s fingers eventually began to cramp from playing for too long and, after Five finally noticed and chastised her for not stopping sooner, she came to join him at the head of the bed to read over his shoulder.

“I thought you were still reading that book on determinism?” Seven said around a yawn as she settled down beside him.

“I am but philosophy always takes me longer to get through. Today, I fancied something different.”

“I prefer it when you read philosophy, then we can talk about it afterwards.”

“We can talk about this.” Five said, turning the page after a glance at Seven confirmed she wasn’t really reading it.

Her nose scrunched up. “I always end up getting confused with mathematical theory, you’ll just get annoyed with me when I can’t keep up.”

He considered her for a minute before slapping the pages shut, making Seven jump a little in her spot.

“I won’t get annoyed with you. Anyway, you always lose me when you get into the complexities of musical theory. You have your specialties, I have mine.”

“You’re reading a lot more of these books.” Seven noted, tugging the volume out of his hands so she could read the back. “Are you trying to jump further?”

“Not exactly.”

He glanced at her. She looked curious, but he knew she would never press for more information.

“I think I can jump through time. I’ve been doing all the math,” Five admitted, an uncharacteristic excitement passing through his voice as he suddenly confessed it all, “and I’ve extended my spatial jumps as much as I can. Granted I think I need to stretch the distance more before I try time travel but...”

Seven’s eyes had grown wide, not with curiosity this time though. She looked more afraid than anything.

“ _Seven_?”

Hopping off the bed, Seven carefully replaced her violin in its case and snapped it shut.

“Dinner will be ready soon.” She mumbled, hugging the case to her chest as she excused herself from the room leaving Five completely baffled.

After a moment he got up and walked into the empty hallway.

“Master Five?” Pogo asked, exiting his room. “What are you doing down here?”

“Nothing.” He replied, looking past Pogo towards the children’s wing.

“Dinner will be served shortly, I was just making my way downstairs.”

Five acknowledged Pogo’s pointed statement, excusing himself to wash up.

They all sat in their customary silence while the old man played one of his tapes, although Five glanced at Seven more often than usual. He was waiting for her to look up from her plate and send him her customary shy smile but she kept her eyes trained on their meatloaf for the entire meal.

He stayed downstairs with Four and Six after dinner while Seven retreated upstairs to play for Mom.

“Hey, is Seven still mad at us for earlier?” Four asked, as the three watched her climb up the stairs in silence.

“No.”

“Are you sure? I think that’s the first time I’ve heard her yell in my entire life.” Four persisted.

“Why were you killing ants, anyway?” Six asked.

“Well we were just stepping on them at first, but that got dull so One suggested the magnifying glass.”

Six and Five glanced at each other, equally lost.

“Anyway she _seems_ mad.” Four mused. “Or sad. _Or_ tired. You know I can never really tell with Seven.”

“Maybe you should apologise?” Six suggested.

“She’s not mad.” Five restated. Honestly why didn’t they listen to him? He was the smartest one of them all.

Except he didn’t understand why she was upset, so maybe he shouldn’t be giving anyone advice.

He left Seven alone for a while. She evidentially spent the time playing as by the time he got upstairs Three was asking ( _actually_ asking this time) that she stop for the night.

“Sorry, Three.”

“It’s fine, it’s _good_ really. I just want to get some sleep.” Three reassured, retreating to her own room.

Seven met his eyes before softly closing her bedroom door.

Five got ready for bed, putting on his standard pyjamas. One day when he teleported to another time and place, far away from this house, he would enjoy getting clothes that didn’t feature the umbrella logo.

He got into bed and turned off his light but he didn’t sleep. Instead he waited until Mom had made her rounds and the hallway was quiet before slipping out of the room.

Tiptoeing over to Seven’s, he let himself in instead of risking alerting the adults he was out of bed by knocking. He was already taking a chance that the old man would lay off the monitors tonight.

“Who’s there?” Seven breathed as he shut the door behind him. “Six?”

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness but Seven was still squinting at him.

“No – but what are you and Six doing late at night that I’m not invited to?” Five asked, going over to sit on the end of her bed.

“Sometimes he can’t sleep.” She admitted, curling her knees up to her chest. “Sometimes I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Ask Six.”

“Not Six, I get why _he_ can’t sleep.” Five said impatiently. “Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“So is chaos theory. Give it a shot.” Five pushed.

“I don’t enjoy talking about it.” Seven replied, her voice steely.

That was interesting. She was more interesting than anyone else gave her credit for.

“ _Fine_. Tell me what happened this afternoon then.”

His patience only lasted a moment before he spoke again. “You know, just because you’re my favourite sister and you don’t have powers, doesn’t mean I won’t put you in a headlock.”

Seven picked at the edges of her blanket restlessly; she always used her extra blanket no matter the time of year.

“I think you’re just going to disappear one day and leave me here alone.”

He looked at her is disbelief, taking a few breaths through his nose before he trusted himself to speak without snapping at her.

“I will not _leave_ you.” Five finally uttered, sounding rightfully indignant.

And to think it was only that very day he was considering her his most intelligent sibling.

“You’re the only one I can stand for more than half an hour. Sometimes even Six can’t go that long without annoying me.”

She shrugged, clearly not believing him.

“ _I’m serious_.”

Seven still didn’t respond.

 “Look, I’ll improve my spatial jumps, then I’ll get the hang of time travel, then I’ll learn how to jump with someone else – and when I get that last one down you’re coming with me.”

“Why not jumping with me first?” Seven asked, sounding impatient.

Five knew how she felt. There were days he had to remind himself that he was only twelve years old and he couldn’t take to the streets, even if it seemed preferable to the Academy on its bad days. And at least Five had good days – the days they had a successful mission, crowds lining the streets cheering, children carrying their action figures, watching the news to hear of their success. All the while Seven stood in the doorway, looking sad and forgotten.

“I’m not risking you by doing that.” He explained, shuffling forward on the bed to peel her hands away from her blanket before she could damage the fabric. “So I will improve my spatial jumps, then time travel, and if I can manage those without ripping my molecules apart or tearing a hold in space time, then I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Okay?”

She nodded but still didn’t meet his eyes.

“You _still_ don’t believe me?”

“Why would you want to take _me_?” She said, self-disgust clear in her tone. “I can’t do anything. Why wouldn’t you take Six or Four or, or any of them – someone like you?”

“W...” He stopped himself, unsure which part of Seven’s ridiculous sentence to tackle first.

“You’re like _me_. We were all born the same way and, in case you stopped listening during that _uncomfortable_ ‘talk’ Mom and Pogo gave us, there’s nothing normal about that.” Five muttered, working hard to keep his voice down. “Now stop being so _silly_.”

He pointed a stern finger at her as she finally looked up. “Do. _Not_. Cry.”

Her mouth crumbled, trying to hold it in.

“No, no, no. I’m serious, don’t do it.”

Seven buried her head in her hands and her shaking shoulders showed she had ignored him.

With a frustrated sigh, Five scooted to her side and threw an arm around her, accepting that his pyjamas were a lost cause as she took the invitation to use his shoulder to muffle her sobs.

“I hate being here.” She eventually choked out.

“I know.”

“No you _don’t_.” Seven snapped, pushing back to furiously wipe her eyes. “None of you do, none of you know what it’s like to feel so, so... _useless_.”

She reached for her bedside table and pulled out her bottle of pills, shaking one onto her palm to take.

“Do those help?” Five asked sceptically.

“They just make me feel kinda numb.” Seven replied, putting them away again.

“This is you numb?” Five said. “You’ve gone through more emotions today than I go through in a month.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled, slumping back onto the bed.

“No – no I didn’t mean...” Five sighed again. “You know sometimes you make _me_ feel really useless.”

Her voice was small as she settled her head against his shoulder again. “Why?”

“Because I always seem to fail with you. I try to make you feel better and I mess it up.” Five admitted, running a hand through his hair feeling increasingly frustrated. He hated not being able to do something. Even something he cared so little for, like showing empathy.

“You don’t fail.”

“The tears of course are evidence of my success.” He replied dryly, letting his hand brush away the dampness from her cheeks.

“That’s my fault.”

Five snorted, far too loudly for someone trying to sneak around.

“Five, be _quiet_.” Seven scolded. “If they find you out of bed, you’ll get in trouble.”

“I know, I know that.” He said. “It’s just, how do you always make things your fault?”

“But it _is_.” She insisted. “If I could just control myself better, I wouldn’t have to take pills.”

“That’s bullshit.”

She hummed, clearly not agreeing. It was annoying, but he was getting too tired to argue.

“So where do you want to go?”

“Huh?”

“When we jump, where do you want to go?” Five asked, pulling her down with him as he laid back.

“Wherever you want to go.”

“ _No_ , don’t do that. Make a choice.”

“Well how far can we go?” She queried.

“Anywhere in the world.” He said, even if he wasn’t sure he would ever have that kind of range.

He thought she wouldn’t answer, that perhaps she’d fallen asleep, when she whispered: “I’ve always wanted to go somewhere quiet. But outside, a big open space. With mountains and trees, maybe a lake. Somewhere I can play without having to worry about what people around me think.”

“Okay. Then that’s where we’ll go.” Five promised.

Seven turned on her side, settling her head on his shoulder instead of the pillow. “Are you going back to your room?”

“Yeah, in a minute.”

She watched him.

“Where do you want to go?”

He knew she would ask that. Furrowing his brow, he told her.

“Really? But you hate rain.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t rain all the time. Besides, I’m sure you’d like it too.”

“Is that where you’ll go first?” Seven asked, propping herself up on an elbow.

“Nah, I’ll try more remote places first.” Five answered, bringing an arm down over his eyes.

Seven poked it. “Don’t fall asleep, you said you were going back to your room.”

He blinding pushed her hand away. “I will.”

“You’ll get in trouble.” She warned, her head dropping back down regardless.

“Well I’ll just have to take you down with me.”

“It’s _my_ room. I’ll just pretend I didn’t know you were here.”

Five snorted, imagining Seven of all people trying to lie. “That’s adorable. Let me know how that works out for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Number Five is reading is one I actually own, it's written by James Gleick. I started writing the second chapter of this story first (the history nerd within me got very excited about it) so you shouldn't have to wait long for that to be uploaded, it just needs some editing and a little lengthening as it's shorter than this one. For chapter three, who knows. You may have to pester me for it. 
> 
> As always comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, I'd love to know what you all think. Have a good weekend everyone!


	2. 13th March 1954

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five is sent on assignment to the Battle of Điện Biên Phủ in March 1954.

It was an almost tear-inducing assignment on the basis it was so infuriatingly simple. All Five had to do was wait under the cover of dawn in the Mường Thanh Valley and ensure a certain member of the French forces didn’t wander too far from their subsector.

Simple. _So_ simple in fact he wanted to smash his head against the wall he was ducked behind just for something to do.

You wouldn’t think being a time travelling assassin tasked with the maintenance of the timeline could ever be described as mundane, but the Commission were insisting on kiddie wheels for an adjustment period. Apparently they thought, after decades of solitude, he needed to get used to being around people, and animals, and generally anything living again.

So here he was, sitting in near isolation waiting to carry out a job he could have easily managed blindfolded, with nothing but some grass to keep him company.  

He should have brought Dolores along for the ride instead of leaving her at the library, but he wasn’t sure if the Handler would check on his progress again and he tried not talk to Dolores while she was around.

Five would hate for them to think he was insane or anything. Especially after arming him with a lovely vintage M1 carbine for today’s task.

Plucking the hat off the top of his head, Five dropped it on the ground beside him. He leaned back against the wall in an attempt to get comfortable even as his ageing bones complained about the hardness of the rocks and earth beneath him.

Reaching into several pockets in his jacket, Five settled on pulling out his favourite notebook to help him pass away the time.

As he looked down at the picture of his sister he ran a customary thumb over her cheek, wishing he could coax the unmoving image into a happy smile. It had been nearly forty-one years since he had seen Number Seven and the last image of her pleading eyes liked to torment him on a near daily basis.

He turned the book over to glance at the woman she had become but his mind could not reconcile the two. Forever in his mind when he thought of Seven he thought of a girl hiding behind bangs, often the picture of loneliness with a hint of frustration flowering around the edges. Seven who cried out that they had forgotten her when everyone else got their portrait done, only to be sharply told she didn’t belong.

Adult Vanya made him feel bad, so he looked back to the one he recognised. Number Seven, the girl who cried for ants. She’d cried for him too.

It was a rare picture of her as a child. Their Father had only agreed to let the photographer take her picture (alone, always alone) after a passionate argument by Pogo, in a rare instance when he didn’t immediately agree with Reginald Hargreeves orders.

It would be over thirty-five years before they would all be born; a time span Five possibly wouldn’t survive if he aged naturally from this current location. Even if the Handler lived up to her promises (which Five doubted given his knowledge of future events) and allowed him to retire to any year he chose, he would end up returning to his family as a middle aged man. His family who were doomed to never reach the same age unless he could figure out a way to stave off the seemingly inevitable tomorrow of ash and dust.

Flipping the pages forward, he focused on the equations he had scribbled around, between and even over some lines he hadn’t cared for. Namely the memories centred on the old man, who Five had not yet surpassed in age – though he figured he had to be catching up.

Forty-one years and he still didn’t know how to get home. Five had always prided himself on his intelligence and mastery over his powers, especially compared to his siblings who seemed to war with their abilities seemingly more often than using them productively. Yet even he had conceded years ago that the mathematics involved with precisely working out how to time travel back to 2002 were out of his depth. And that eventually guesswork and sheer luck may be required.

As he looked over the sums again, his eyes were drawn away from his ramblings to focus on his sister’s words instead.

From the sound of it Seven had grown up to be ballsy, and Five was getting impatient to meet this woman. It was still hard to reconcile in his head the image of Number Seven, who their Father would have liked to see disappear into the wallpaper, with Vanya Hargreeves the author who had given the world every secret the Umbrella Academy had miraculously kept hidden from the press during the days of their childhood fame.

Five wondered how their siblings handled it. Knowing their track record – _badly_. He just hoped they didn’t lash out unnecessarily at Seven. After all, if they had all engaged with her more growing up she wouldn’t have had time to make such meticulously detailed notes on all their lives.

He marvelled at the details she remembered, the stories which he had forgotten even when he first arrived in the future as a thirteen-year-old boy. It pained him to see that nearly every individual story about the siblings, good or bad, was written as an observer rather than a participant.

Five had gone through a phase of wishful thinking when he first jumped that his siblings would be warmer to Seven in his absence as he knew without him around to purposely invite her and argue for her inclusion she was at risk of total isolation in that house.

That delusion had been killed within two weeks when he finally found her book.

By then Dolores had been in tow and the pair had found the largely intact library, which to that day felt like a god-send to Five. He’d raided it for books from the physics and mathematics sections, teaching himself until he was fairly certain he could write several detailed theses on the theories surrounding time travel, alternate timelines and off-world dimensions. That was if there had been anyone around to submit it too, but he felt safe to say like everything else on earth all the universities had been destroyed too.

Pity, he would have to be content being Mr Five instead of Doctor.  

During that time the library acted as his house where he set up his sorry excuse for a home on the third floor. It mainly composed of Dolores, a few clothes he had scavenged for them both, his tinned food collection and several bottles of gin, which he had developed a taste for when the pitch black nights seemed too horrible to face sober.

It had caught him by surprise. While he was walking towards the lower ground bathrooms he had passed the autobiography section, an area he had easily passed over on his previous hunts around the stacks. He’d barely glanced in their direction as we walked, when his sister’s name unexpectedly jumped out at him from amongst the volumes of useless texts.

Five had it in his hands before he even registered moving towards the shelf.

She’d written a chapter for each of the siblings and adults of the house; rather vainly he’d flipped straight to Chapter Five.

Five didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved that most of his chapter dealt with his disappearance rather than the thirteen years he had been present in his sister’s life. After reading the other chapters however, especially Seven’s own, he took it as a compliment. The absence of his siblings in her future life was their own failure; his was a matter of ego which Vanya (at least on page) didn’t seem to hold against him. And their few happy memories, Five preferred to think, were too precious to share.

He turned the pages again until he got to his section, amused at the picture of the portrait their Father had apparently hung in the house after his disappearance. Apparently his sister left a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich there for him every night until she had finally fled the house. A sugar laden snack that had stopped appealing in his twenties, but Five knew it was the thought that counted.

She wrote that she was confident he was still alive, just stuck somewhere and unable to get back home to them. He liked to think she wouldn’t even consider that he had simply not chosen to return; not after the number of times they had planned together where they would run.

On his travels with the Commission he had already found several places she would love, quiet and beautiful where she could practice and he could...

“How are things going today, Five?” The Handler called fondly, having soundlessly materialised to his right. She made it no secret that he was her new favourite.

“Slowly.” He retorted, not looking up from his notebook. “I don’t suppose this is a wild goose chase you’ve sent me on?”

“Why would I waste such _valuable_ company resources on a wild goose chase?” She deflected genially.

Five looked at her then, stood with her suitcase held in hand and a wide yet threatening smile stretched across her face. She’d frozen the surrounding time, although given the sparseness of Five’s hideout that didn’t reflect much in the landscape.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” He replied offhandedly, thinking of several assignments over the last year which had not necessitated his direct intervention.

“It never hurts to be cautious. Especially when dealing with events which have such significant importance. Do you understand,” she said, moving closer to him, “the consequences of this battle? How much would change if it were not to take place?”

“I understand the ramifications.” Five sighed. “I’m simply questioning whether this man could really pose such a risk to it; the forces are already in place. The French stand no chance of winning today.”

“We need today to run on schedule, Five.” She said with an air of finality.

The Handler stopped at his feet and looked down her nose at his reading material.

“I had hoped a recruit who showed such potential as yourself would know better than to slack off while on a job. Is a few minutes of nostalgia worth compromising our arrangement?” She asked, her eyes moving from the words to the numbers. “Or perhaps there’s something else you’ve been working on?”

Five snapped the book shut and gave her a grin that was all teeth.

“Just admiring my sister’s artistry. She had a real way with words, you know.” He said acerbically.

“I know. I’ve read it.” The Handler smiled slyly. “ _Repeatedly_. In fact I even have a few lines memorised.”

“I _would_ point out that, as I have also read it and have it right here in my hand, there’s no need to start quoting it at me...”

“ _The thing about Five_ ,” she started, cutting him off, “ _is that he always_ cares _more than he lets on_.”

“She always was an idealist.” Five sneered.

“So it’s not true?” She taunted.

“Would you have given me this if it were?”

He held up the gun.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get this assignment over with.”

The Handler raised an eyebrow. “Special plans with the missus tonight?”

“I’ve been promised roasted cockroach for dinner.” Five replied flatly.

“Sounds delightful. You must invite me around sometime.”

No chance, Dolores despised her. She always seemed to think the Handler was coming on to him.

He tucked his notebook back in his pocket, not liking how the Handler’s eyes lingered on Seven’s face. “In that case I’ll try to catch a three-eyed fish for the occasion.”

“ _Fancy_.”

A slight rustle of the weeds beside him alerted him she was gone.

Only four more years of service, he thought as he reclined back against the wall. Then he could jump back and save the world, or something like that.

Four more years and he could see his siblings again.

Of course the Commission would never allow that but it was the sole support for his sanity nowadays. Combined with Dolores’ sweet wit.

They wouldn’t let him use the briefcase to return to his own timeline. The only way they’d let him retire was if he promised to go so far back he would never overlap with his siblings’ timeline or return to the apocalypse. Given his powers, even that wouldn’t be good enough for the Commission.

The Handler probably intended for him to either die in his post or to become another agent’s next hit.

The forty-one years of solitude, minus Dolores (and yes, he was aware most people wouldn’t count her as real company but in Five’s book those people could jump up their assholes), had raised a resilient mind; one that was half tempted to continue in this life, preserving his own instead of risking it.

It had been twenty-eight years since the world had ended. Perhaps the Commission was right, and it really needed to happen. His siblings would have long since decomposed in their graves by now; Vanya too, wherever she had sought refuge when the earth collapsed around her.

When he had found his four siblings in the rubble, he’d spent several days looking for Vanya and Ben. He’d found Pogo, parts of Mom too although she’d been broken beyond repair by the collapse of the house – he might have tried to fix her otherwise.

With time he learnt why Ben wasn’t anywhere to be found, it was touched upon in the book though there wasn’t much detail about the exact circumstances. After seeing several of his family members’ bodies first hand he was rather thankful for that.

But Five could never stop wondering about Seven. And why, if his siblings knew of the apocalypse, they hadn’t called her to the house. Why they hadn’t tried to protect her; the one who needed their protection most of all.

Were they trying to protect her from the knowledge of what was to come; let her live in the delusion that life would continue as it always did until it suddenly didn’t. Was that better?

Or had she reached out, as she constantly tried to reach out, and they spurned her like they always did?

He liked to think with time she had found someone since she had published her book, had found people, had grown in a way she should have had the chance to in childhood. That in her last moments she was surrounded by people who truly cared instead of running for their sham of a family.

Deep down though, he knew she hadn’t. He pictured her alone somewhere, a wall of flames heading towards her or a pile of rubble raining down on her and no one around to hold her hand through the terror.

And the only way to change that was to go back. He _had_ to go back. Without the briefcase.

Which meant returning to his equations for the fifty millionth time, he grouched.

At least he knew he could get his siblings help, although he wasn’t sure when they became aware of the impending apocalypse. Yet they _had_ banded together to stop it and that was a start.

A crunching of stone alerted Five he was no longer alone and a glimpse over the wall confirmed it. The man he had been waiting for marched along the path, for reasons Five would never know.

With a sigh he checked his sights. The man would have been dead in a few hours anyway – most likely.

Taking aim at the soldier, Five wondered what his siblings would make of him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised you didn't have to wait long for chapter 2 as I had already written it. Weirdly I chose the date (13th March) before the years and I coincidentally found in research that on that day in 1954 the Battle of Điện Biên Phủ started. It marked the end of the First Indochina War and led to the Second Indochina War (aka The Vietnam War) - where Klaus would eventually, and accidentally, serve. I love it when things like that work out :D Plus I focused on Cold War history during my degrees so it gave me an opportunity to geek out.
> 
> I have not yet started the final chapter (although I know what's going to happen) but I aim to have it up at least by the end of next week. If it is not up by then please feel free to harass me in the comments section below and tell me to get it done! In the meantime if you enjoyed this please let me know with comments and kudos. Five is a tricky character to write!


	3. 13th March 2002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siblings discuss how to handle Vanya's apparent memory loss. Set one week after their time jump back to their childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was determined to get this finished by this work's namesake!

“Five. What do you think?” Luther asked, everyone’s eyes swivelling in his direction.

Five had stopped listening as soon as Luther took over the conversation, not having the patience for that much stupid after enduring personal training that morning. Of course the training itself wasn’t difficult, Five’s powers were well beyond those he had originally possessed at thirteen. But having no one but Reginald Hargreeves as company for three hours had been very draining. Three hours back in the apocalypse would have been preferable, an opinion he had entered upon after only ten minutes in the training room.

“About what?” He asked disinterestedly. They kept asking him what he thought. It was annoying. Why was it when he wanted them to listen they ignored him, yet when he wanted to be left alone they started pestering him?

“It’s been a week.” Luther restated, annoyed by Five’s seeming lack of concern. “Vanya still shows no sign of remembering. Do you think she ever will remember on her own? If not, do _we_ tell her what happened?”

“We _should_.” Allison insisted. “We can’t keep this from her.”

“Not if we’re going to help her c-control her powers.” Diego chimed in.

“But how do we even do that?” Ben asked. “If we get her off those pills now, we might just accelerate the apocalypse by seventeen years. We need to do this the right way.”

Allison shook her head. “We can’t try to control her, we need to make things better this time. We need her to trust us, she’ll never let us help her otherwise.”

“Well we’re not exactly off to a great start.” Klaus said, gnawing at his fingernails. “We’re all in here and we’ve left V by herself. _Again_. Did anyone else see how she looked when we all told her we would be busy even though we aren’t training?”

“I’m not saying it will be easy, from this point we’ve already got mistakes under our belts. I’ll never be able to take back breaking her violin,” Allison said sadly, “or yelling at her to go away. But we’ve got _years_ now, and I for one am not missing out on another opportunity to be close to my sister.”

Luther put a hand on her shoulder, for which Allison looked at him gratefully.

“Are we sure she doesn’t remember,” Klaus started, “I mean...”

Five got bored listening to them all.

He teleported into Seven’s room, finding her curled up on the bed with her feet tucked under the blankets. A ridiculously large book obscured her face but the slight pop alerted her she was no longer alone.

“What have you got there?” Five asked, dropping heavily onto the bed. The jostle had no success in getting Seven to put her book down.

“Anna Karenina.”

“Grim.” He judged. “Why do you always read such _grim_ books? Why don’t you read something more light-hearted?”

Seven sighed. “I like Tolstoy.”

Five glared at the cover. “What’s this one about? _Wait_ , no. Let me guess – _betrayal_?”

There was a pause before she answered: “Lucky guess.”

“There’s nothing lucky about it, he’s a renowned realist. Or as we would call him now, a killjoy.”

“I still like it.”

Five groaned and reached forward to snatch the tome out of her hands but Seven dodged him. The book continued to mask her face.

“Well you’ve got me suspicious now.” He said feeling surly. “You haven’t been crying have you?”

“ _No_.”

He curled a finger over the lip of the spine and pulled the book down.

Seven had been telling the truth, her eyes were dry; although she was wearing an almighty scowl that took him aback.

“Five,” she scolded, “you made me lose my place.”

“I have it.” He said impatiently, his finger still marking the correct page. “Now can we go do something more interesting?”

“I thought you already were.” Seven sniffed, snatching her brick of a book back.

“Ugh, I doubt anything that involves Punchatron, Zorrnot or Spirit Boy could be characterised as interesting. One just wanted to give us one of his,” he lowered his voice, “‘I’m Number One, Number One means best, best means do what I say’ speeches.”

Seven shot him an unimpressed look as she slotted her bookmark into place.

“Yeah, I know. Spirit Boy isn’t one of my best, I’m still working on it. Maybe I need to try to use the word Ouija instead. Somehow. Zorrnot is pretty good though – like Zorro? But not as cool or interesting. Zorr- _not_?”

“This,” she said, circling her apathetic expression with a finger, “is for that terrible impression.”

 “I’d like to see _you_ do better.” Five said, feigning hurt.

She lit up to his delight before producing a ridiculously deep voice, coming closer to Luther’s tone in adulthood rather than as a teenager. “I’m Number One. I hit things and make them go smash.”

Five burst out laughing, joined by a more restrained laugh from Seven who hid her grin behind a hand.

“See, this is way more fun than Tolstoy.” Five said, taking her book and tossing it with a thud on her nightstand. “Now can we get out of here, your room is several shades of depressing?”

“Where do you want to go?” Seven asked, her smile quickly fading.

She was so cautious, ever since they came back. That his siblings didn’t notice only confirmed their low status on the intellectual pecking order of the Hargreeves household in Five’s book. The old Number Seven was always worried about getting in trouble or attracting scorn from someone who was ostensibly supposed to be her family, yet that hadn’t stopped her caring for them and finding joy in what little they offered her. The girl before him now was coloured by Vanya, who had learned to expect nothing and to always doubt her siblings’ intentions.

“Five?” She pushed after he didn’t answer.

He held out his hands. It took longer than it used to before she took them.

“It’s a surprise.”

She quirked a brow at him. “Am I bringing my violin or the book?”

“Whichever you prefer.” Five replied, trying not to sound smug as she confirmed his suspicions. Vanya chose the book.

It had been uncommon to hear Seven play the first time around, she was so shy and hesitated to let them listen as she honed her skill. Since they had arrived she had only played it once, on the day she had spent in the kitchen baking with Grace. She’d worn a giant smile and finally picked her instrument up again, playing was significantly better than any thirteen year old, even a genius like his sister, should be capable of.

Vanya hugged the book to her chest as they walked along the corridor, the curious stares of Diego and Ben lingering on their backs. Evidentially his siblings had finally noticed his absence, somehow managing to climb out of their own asses long enough to, and had been looking for him.

At least they had the good sense not to follow. While Ben would likely be fine, Vanya was still jumpy around the others. Although she was doing a good job pretending not to remember anything; his siblings’ had all written it off as a young Number Seven still being shy and unaccustomed to prolonged attention.

He led her to their old hideout, settling on his side of the bed.

“You didn’t bring something to read?” Seven asked as she took her seat next to him.

“No, I thought you could read to me for a change.”

“I thought you said Tolstoy was a killjoy?”

“Maybe I’m in a morbid mood.” He said. “We can take it in turns.”

Five folded his arms under his head and kicked his legs out while Vanya curled into herself.

 “I’m already halfway.”

“I’ll get what’s happening from context.” Five bluffed, not feeling confident in that statement. Not when he was over three-hundred pages behind. “Unless you want me to get my book and we read that instead?”

Vanya looked at him. “What are you reading?”

“A book on emergence. The theory that the rise of a system cannot be predicted or explained from antecedent conditions.” He said with as straight a face as he could manage. His mouth couldn’t help but twist into a small smile as he watched Vanya’s eyes widen.

She opened her book. “Okay, where was I?”

Vanya tracked her finger down the page until she found her place. “Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“So grim.” Five commented helpfully, understanding her agitation.

He plucked the book out of her hand again, replaced the bookmark, and tossed it towards the foot of the bed. Which at their current height settled far away from their feet. If Seven wasn’t his favourite there would be no way in hell he’d be willingly suffering through puberty again, he thought, as he looked at his short legs with disdain.

Still, at least he would eventually get taller. Seven would barely grow, always remaining a diminutive and deceptively helpless size.

“Then go get something else.” Vanya huffed, settling her chin on her knees.

“Talk to me instead.”

It was a rare thing for the two to sit down and simply talk – unless they had a firm topic in mind like a philosophical debate or a theory (musical or scientific) they wanted to bounce off the other.

Five was well aware he was lacking in the more emotive skills; he was never the kind to stop and ask someone how their day was. With Seven he’d always at least tried and now he knew he needed to try harder. She deserved them trying harder.

“Talk?” Vanya asked dubiously, wrinkling her nose. It was the same expression Seven would make when Grace served fish pie thinking it was her favourite. Although being the good and subservient Number Seven she never voiced her dislike, instead offering their pseudo mother a dim smile with a polite thank you for good measure. Seven’s real favourite was lemon tart with vanilla ice cream.

“Yeah.”

“About what?”

He was going to fall down at the first hurdle.

“Oh, well...” He paused, brow furrowing as he desperately tried to think of something to suggest. He should just ask how she was, like a normal brother would. Of course he knew what he actually wanted to talk about – Seven’s powers. The fake amnesia. Her reluctance to pick up the violin. Really, there were plenty of things he _wanted_ to talk about. But he wanted to wait and see, wanted to know if she would trust him with those answers on her own terms.

He was even less known for his patience as for his compassion and concern, so it was anyone’s guess how long that resolve would last. Looking over at Vanya, trying to make herself as small as possible on the pillow beside him, he knew now was not the time to push her. Not yet anyway. She needed to stop seeing them as a threat first. Although, as their pitifully short fight at the theatre had shown, they weren’t much of a match for her at full strength anyway.

Vanya sighed, taking pity on him. “What did you do in training this morning?”

“Nothing fun.” Five winced, which only spiked her curiosity further. “I was literally jumping through hoops – targeted jumps. Making sure I can target my landings, especially when I have to land in less than ideal conditions. Like on a ledge or in a vent or in a moving vehicle. I need to adjust to the spaces as I jump. Go from standing to sitting, things like that.”

“Sounds complicated.”

He’d mastered those kinds of jumps years ago.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Five managed, sounding boastful to his own ears.

“I’m sure you can do anything you put your mind to.” Vanya said.

“What I need to practise is jumping with someone else. Care to volunteer?” Five asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Not a chance.” She replied, tensing up. “I’m not going first when you do that.”

Vanya already had gone first, along with the other five, but wanted to try again. To get better at it. Theoretically doing a spatial jump with someone in tow had to be easier than a group time travel trip. Sure he’d done it with Delores plenty of times in the apocalypse but she didn’t have her right arm or any legs. There hadn’t been as much mass. Or risk.

“I can do it.” Five scoffed.

“Well do me a favour and practice on the others first.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Which one gets your vote?”

“Anyone apart from me.” Vanya insisted, although it pleased him to see she had softened slightly.

“Fine. And then we’ll go somewhere. I was thinking the next time the old man goes off on his own we could try to go to the park. It’ll be easier to sneak out if we teleport.”

“That sounds nice.” She agreed cautiously.

“Then where do you want to go?”

Her answer was different to last time. “Somewhere warm.”

“Like a beach or something?” Five asked, curious about the twinge of irritation he felt with Seven’s new answer. It had been forty-four years, of course she’d changed her mind since then.

“I don’t really mind. Just somewhere warm. And quiet. I don’t like it when it's crowded.”

“Neither do I.”

Not anymore. Being the only person on earth did that to a man.

“Where do you want to go?” Vanya asked.

Five leaned back on his arms again. “I’m fine with somewhere warm and quiet. I’ll think of some places, then you can choose one.”

Vanya had just managed to relax, uncurling from her unforgiving crouch to stretch out on the bed, when a timid knock came at the door and interrupted their quiet conversation.

Five grumbled and rose to go answer it, noticing that his sister had instantly tensed again. Every time he seemed to make progress with her, someone forced him to take a step back again.

“What?” He asked bluntly, glaring into Diego’s eyes.

His brother was looking over his shoulder at Vanya. Five didn’t need to turn to see she didn’t like being the focus of his stare, he could practically feel her discomfort radiating across the room.

“ _What_?” Five asked again, drawing Diego’s attention back.

“We were planning to p-play a game of tag and we w-w-wanted to know if you both wanted to play.” Diego asked, emphasising _both_.

“We’re fine...”

“Actually,” Vanya spoke over him, clearing her voice so they could hear her more clearly, “I wouldn’t mind getting back to my book. But you should go Number Five. Although I don’t know why they bother to ask you anymore, you always win.” She added with a sly grin, coming to stand by his side with Anna Karenina tucked under her arm.

“Seven...”

“I’ll just go back to my room, I’ll see you at dinner.”

She slipped out of the room, folding into herself as she squeezed through the narrow space between the brothers to ensure she didn’t touch them.

They watched her go. Five returned his glower towards Diego.

“ _Tag_?”

Diego shrugged helplessly. “We a-always played tag and V-Vanya never got to play. We thought she would like to.”

“Idiot.” Five shot back, heading for the staircase. Now they would really have to play it – he was fifty-eight years old; that was too old to play _tag_. He’d felt too old to play when he was actually thirteen. And with his power it really was pointless, no one could lay a hand on him. Even if he was forced to go first, he quickly caught a sibling and disappeared to a quiet corner of the house for the rest of the game.

Of course if they had ever invited Seven to play he might have joined in more. Back then however, they didn’t have as much control over their powers as they did now. There was always a little too much risk that one of them could push too hard and she would get hurt.

Now there was a chance she could hurt them; if she’d stopped taking the pills like he suspected, anyway.

The remaining four were waiting in the sitting room, sat closely together far away from the door so they wouldn’t be overheard by the adults. Each of their faces fell to a degree as Vanya failed to emerge behind him and Diego.

“Told you.” Ben said.

“Who’s stupid idea was this?” Five asked.

No one took the blame but several pairs of eyes darted towards Klaus.

“Where’s Vanya now?”

“In her room reading.” He replied, adding that she wanted to be alone before Allison could go after her.

“I don’t like leaving her alone.” Allison said. “We hardly get any spare time together like this – we should spend it as a family.”

“We can’t push her.” Ben interjected. “Besides, if we completely change our behaviour towards her it’ll show Dad that things have changed. He always kept us apart from her, remember?”

“Yeah, why did he do that?” Klaus asked. “I know he was always a top grade asshat, but it’s not like he kept the rest of us apart.”

“Maybe he wanted to make it easier for us to kill her.” Luther spoke up, refusing to meet any of their eyes. “If her powers came back. That seems like something he would do.”

The silence spoke volumes; that was exactly something Reginald Hargreeves would do.

“He had to know it would build r-resentment. That she would hate us for it.” Diego said.

Five shrugged. “Like he cared.”

“God, I can’t believe we’re doing this again.” Allison sighed. “What if Dad makes it worse? I mean, what if he finds out about her? What if he tries to lock her..?”

She trailed off awkwardly.

“Lock her _up_?” Five asked, watching his siblings’ guilty expressions manifest. “He used to _lock_ her up – _where_?”

“There’s a bunker under the house, specially made for her.” Ben readily explained. “Pogo told Luther about it after Allison got hurt.”

“And I put her in it again.” Luther confessed, meeting Five’s eye as he did.

To his credit he didn’t look away even as Five felt his face contort into a furious scowl. He took a step back however when he finally gave him a toothy grin.

“After she attacked Allison, I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“I’d like to point out I was unconscious at this point.” Allison said, distancing herself from the argument.

“But you let her out?” Five asked sweetly through bared teeth.

“We tried.” Klaus said, his tone helpless.

“Barely.” Ben contradicted him. “Luther was the only one who said we should keep her in there.”

“And you three _bone heads_ couldn’t figure out a way to get around him?”

“I tried.” Allison replied. “But I didn’t have my power.”

Five turned on Diego and Klaus. “And while she was trying to get around him you two couldn’t have just gone over to the door and opened it? The last time I counted, Number One only had two arms, not three.”

“I was in withdrawal.” Klaus quickly answered, while Diego remained silent.

Five turned back to Luther. “Her powers had been unleashed by that point. How did you subdue her _then_ when you couldn’t on the stage?”

“She came back to apologise for attacking Allison; she thought she was dead when she arrived. I told her she was recovering and offered her a hug; I told her everything was going to be alright.” Luther said, swallowing thickly as he glanced between Five and Allison. “Then I squeezed until she passed out.”

Ben made a sound of disgust, getting off the couch to stand by the door instead.

“I _am_ sorry for it.” Luther insisted. “I know it was the wrong thing to do – but when I spoke to Pogo. He was just so _scared_ of her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Pogo scared like that before, he was always so calm even when we went on dangerous missions. And after seeing she had nearly killed Allison, I didn’t think we had any chance reasoning with her. I did what I thought was best.”

“And ignored the rest of us as u-usual.” Diego grumbled, playing with his switchblade. An annoying habit he had picked up when he was ten and apparently never grown out of.

“I blame it on the lack of oxygen in space.” Klaus piped up. “I swear he was never this stupid before he left.”

Luther shot an irritated look at his brothers but didn’t retort.

“I want to apologise to her but if she doesn’t remember I guess I can’t. Which is why we need to decide what to do – do we wait and see if she remembers on her own? Or do we tell her ourselves?”

“I d-don’t think she’d believe us even if we did.” Diego said. “I mean, w-what are we going to say – in the future you go on a killing rampage, blow up the moon and destroy the p-planet?”

“She’ll think we’re pulling a prank on her.” Ben added. “That we’re making fun of her for not having powers.”

“You’re right.” Five agreed. If Vanya didn’t remember everything for herself that’s exactly what Seven would have thought.

They really were cruel pricks growing up.

For now he just needed to stop his siblings from trying to tell her themselves. If he was right Vanya would reveal it herself. In time. If his siblings could find a way to share their one collective brain cell effectively and not screw everything up again.

“No, we should tell her.” Allison insisted, Luther immediately nodding in agreement. “I get it will be difficult, but it’ll just make everything worse if we don’t. And I want to _talk_ to her. Really talk to her, not just stilted conversation in the hallway while she looks at me like – like she always _used_ to.”

“Like you’re going to rumour her to shut up, slam a door in her face or tell her she’s getting in the way?” Five supplied helpfully.

Honestly, he was happy for Vanya’s sake that the relationship between his two sisters had progressed towards civility during the eight days before the apocalypse. It didn’t make up, however, for the thirty years Allison had treated Seven like a piece of furniture. To be used or to blend away into the room. And he intended to remind her of the fact that outside Five and Ben (occasionally joined by Klaus) they’d all been content to ignore Seven just like Hargreeves had wanted.

“I want to apologise to her. I _need_ to apologise. This whole thing was my fault.”

“No it wasn’t.” Luther blurted, trying to take her hand.

“Yes it was.” Allison insisted, folding her arms.

“Allison, you were four years old.”

“I should have realised sooner what he made me do, Luther.”

Five’s eyes darted between the two, unhappy that there was something else they had kept from him.

“Care to share with the class?” Klaus asked, pulling his gangly legs up on the couch. They weren’t allowed to put their feet on the furniture but in the scheme of things it hardly mattered.

“Dad made me rumour Vanya when we were kids,” Allison confessed, worrying her lip between her teeth, “I never put it together until I got to the cabin and saw Vanya use her powers.”

She paused before continuing. “It was amazing, I know you only saw the destruction – when she destroyed the house and at the theatre – but when she was playing there the music was coming off of her in waves, it was like there was a storm inside the cabin blowing everything around. The whole room seemed to sway, but it was warm and the music was so beautiful.”

“She can make wind?” Klaus said, quickly frowning. “I made that sound weird. But how many powers does she _have_ exactly?”

Allison shrugged. “She’d only had her powers a few days by that point, who knows.”

“Pogo told me her powers were almost limitless.” Luther sighed. “If only we could get the red book without Dad noticing, I bet he has notes on Vanya in it.”

“He has it on him all the time, there’s no chance.” Ben said, shooting the idea down.

Five raised his hands, redirecting attention back towards him. “We can plot theft another time. What did you do to her, Three?”

“Do you remember when Dad told us Vanya was sick? And she had to be kept in quarantine?”

They all nodded except Klaus.

“ _No_. She was? I don’t remember that. At. All.”

“Well, he brought me down to this room they’d been keeping her in, I don’t know for how long. Mom and Pogo were there. Mom gave Vanya some pills saying they would make her better and then Dad told me to rumour her, gave me the exact phrase to use.”

“Which was?” Five asked, dreading the response.

Allison grimaced, eventually choking it out. “To make her think she was ordinary.”

“You knew this whole time?” Diego said accusingly.

“I never put it together.” Allison said, throwing her arms up.

“You didn’t think it was a strange thing to be made to do?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“Ordinary? That’s brutal, even for _him_.” Klaus scoffed over his brothers. “Why didn’t he just get you to make her think she had no powers?”

“I don’t _know_.” Allison insisted. “I remembered the room, but it was so strange I thought it was a dream more than a memory. I mean you guys saw it,” she looked hopelessly at the brothers who had grown alongside her, “it was dark and there were those weird spikes on the wall.”

“You saw Vanya take the medicine though.” Ben pointed out.

“We all thought she’d been sick.” Luther argued. “Besides, _none_ of us questioned it. How many times did we watch her take those pills – how many times did we ask why? Did any of us ever suggest that she stop?”

“I did.” Five said.

“Me too.” Ben added. “I _always_ thought it was weird. I mean what kind of illness requires medication for years after she was physically sick? And if she _had_ been that sick, why didn’t Dad taken her to the hospital? If she was really normal, there was no harm. Then they said it was for her anxiety – which never added up. But whenever I asked she would change the subject.”

Klaus groaned, leaning his head back against the couch and shutting his eyes to the situation. “I stole one once, thinking it would get me high. It just made me fall asleep. I still felt slow a few days after, never tried one again.”

“Well, once we tell her, we can get her off them.” Allison said, standing up. “Now do we agree that we should tell her?”

“Yes.” Luther said immediately.

“ _No_.” Five insisted. “Ben was right, she won’t take it well.”

“Yes – I mean, I vote _no_ – yes, I agree with Five.” Ben said. “It’s got to be buried under there somewhere. We need to trigger her memory and let her realise by herself. Let her see that we have done nothing to try and stop her, then wait for her to come to us.”

“And think that we were trying to hide it from her again? _No_.” Allison persevered. “We have to tell her, we need to show her we will be there for her and that we’ll help her.”

“Yes. As in I vote yes.” Klaus clarified, his eyes still shut. “Because fuck Dad.”

Diego nodded slowly and, despite Ben’s attempts to convince him otherwise, settled on Allison’s plan.

“Why are you all such morons?” Five seethed. “This is a terrible idea. Why do you all always have such _terrible_ ideas?”

“Five...”

He cut Luther off. “You shouldn’t get a vote. You either.” Five said, pointing at Allison.

“We’re doing this, Five. It’s f-four against two.” Diego said. “It’s the right move.”

They all remained seating.

“Okay, who’s doing this?” Diego asked when he saw no one was moving. “We can’t all go, it’ll f-freak her out.”

“I will.” Allison volunteered.

“And when you explain everything are you going to tell her you’re the reason she doesn’t remember having powers?” Ben asked dubiously. “I should do it, I wasn’t involved in anything that happened that week – she shouldn’t have anything against me.”

“So you’re going to have the ‘you were dead for ten years’ conversation too. Downer.” Klaus said, unhelpful as always.

“I’ll do it.” Five said with an air of finality. “When the time is right.”

“You just said this was a t-terrible idea.”

“I do think it’s a bad idea, especially if _you_ did it. I’d rather it came from me than you; if you recall, it wasn’t me who left her in a cage.” Five sneered.

“I seem to recall you j-jumping onto the plan to kill her q-quickly enough.” Diego retorted.

“After you made her go _supernova_!”

“Five should do it.” Luther said, trying to ignore the look of betrayal Allison shot him. “Vanya – _Seven_ – will trust him. She always did, way more than the rest of us.”

“Great, now that’s settled.” Five said, looking around the room for any lingering signs of discontent. “Why don’t you get on with that game of tag? They’ll get suspicious otherwise.”

He teleported to the upstairs hallway, surprised to find Seven’s door open. Peering his head around the frame he found her scribbling on some bits of paper.

“Anything interesting?”

“I had some ideas for a new composition.” Vanya replied, her eyes focused on the page.

“Can I hear it?”

She shook her head. “It’s not ready yet.”

“Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready to play it for me.”

Vanya gave him a small smile. “You’ll be the first one to know.”

Closing her door, Five headed back to his room. The rest of them would undoubtedly be back soon enough to pester him, but it didn’t matter. This time around it was about Seven, not them. They needed to learn that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you were waiting to see them go to the donut shop as promised in Experiment 5068 and I swear that is coming, but not just yet. I also know talking about what Luther did in the penultimate episode is a minefield but try not to bash him too much - for Allison's sake, not mine :D  
> As always, let me know what you thought with comments, kudos and bookmarks. Until next time (and yes, I have lots and lots and lots of ideas so this Then and Now series is ending no time soon) <3


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